


We Still Go On

by galentines



Category: 9 to 5 the Musical - Parton/Resnick
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:15:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23108344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galentines/pseuds/galentines
Summary: Suddenly, it’s April 24th again. Violet’s been dreading it, but all year the day seemed so far away. Until it wasn’t.
Relationships: Judy Bernly/Violet Newstead
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17





	We Still Go On

Suddenly, it’s April 24th again. Violet’s been dreading it, but all year the day seemed so far away. Until it wasn’t. 

The first year, Violet had completely scribbled the date off her calendar. She wouldn’t have to face it if it didn’t exist, right? No 24th, simple. Josh had locked himself in his room all day long, and the night ended in an argument, both of them in tears. 

The second year, she tried to live life as usual. It didn’t  _ have _ to mean anything. It was just another day, like any other. Except her hands shook from morning til nightfall, and Josh walked on eggshells any time their paths crossed. After dinner, he wanted to talk about it,  _ really _ talk. So they had. Violet had been surprised to find herself feeling better. 

But this year, she has no idea how to go about it. Josh remained sleeping when she left for work, and she’d never told Judy or Doralee what the date was. She wasn’t sure if she could bear the pity, if she could handle the way she knew Judy’s eyes would get soft, her touches on Violet’s arm even more tender…

That was another problem, the top of the list of current messy things in her life. But she couldn’t think about her inappropriate torch for her friend today. She shouldn’t think about it  _ ever _ , but especially not today. 

Not on the anniversary of losing Mick. 

Sometimes, it all feels like a story she’d heard somewhere, or a movie she watched years ago. Surely it hadn’t been her own life. You hear about these kinds of things happening to friends or friends, or distant cousins. Not to your own family. Yet other times it felt like just yesterday, that she’d heard the squeal of brakes and the screaming. Like just yesterday, that she buried her 45 year old husband in the ground, tossed a flower on the grave and walked away. 

She supposed she could take off work, stay home and stare at the walls. But no, Violet doesn’t fancy herself a coward. Before, Violet had taken the advice of her therapist and got behind a wheel, only a week after the accident. She had to face this new fear head-on before it could control her. She drives to work every day, now, to keep it in check. 

She can handle going to work today. Easy. 

It seems quieter than usual, as Violet crosses the bullpen to her office. She knows it’s entirely in her head, but can’t shake the feeling that her employees are staring, that everyone notices the tremor in her hands as she unlocks her door. 

She settles behind her desk, and Doralee comes with her messages and schedule for the day, like always. She’s smiley, and friendly, and cracking jokes like any other day. For some reason, Violet can hardly stand it. She thanks Doralee, thinking some space and time alone in her office could be useful. 

Instead, it’s terrifying. Just her thoughts to keep her company? What a nightmare. She nearly knocks her chair over when there’s a knock at the door, so eager for distraction. 

“Violet!”

Judy is on the other side of the door, bright eyed and cheerful as ever. Her hands are full of two steaming mugs, and she carefully tries to keep them from spilling over. 

“I haven’t seen you go to the break room yet, so I got your coffee!”

There’s that feeling, the warmth that spreads around Violet’s chest every time Judy does… well, almost anything, these days. She thanks Judy for the coffee, smiles, and turns to head to her desk. 

Judy’s footsteps follow her. 

“Everything alright?” 

Violet braces her hands against her desk. She’s not sure she’s ready for the conversation. Judy is always kind, and chipper, and Violet just can’t get herself to mar that with her own drama. She cares too much about Judy’s happiness. 

“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” 

She can't look Judy in the eye, and knows that Judy can tell. They’ve developed such an ease, such a camaraderie with one another. Violet feels sheepish and embarrassed that she can’t even face her friend. Her Judy. 

“I guess, if you say so.” 

One look and she knows Judy isn’t buying it. She places the mug on Violet’s desk, reaches out to squeeze her on the elbow. 

“You know where I am, if you need it.”

They’re the same words Violet herself has told Judy, countless times. When Judy was plagued with guilt over Hart. When Judy was conflicted and hurt, signing her divorce papers. When Judy had a bad day. 

Judy would always,  _ always  _ take her up on it. 

Violet finds herself wanting to do the same.

—-

It’s a slow day, and she keeps to herself for much of it. She fills the time with paperwork, and phone calls, and that list of things she’s been putting off. She works through lunch, even when Doralee offers to pay, even when Judy frowns. 

It had taken Violet an entire year to stop having panic attacks every time Josh got in a car, or a bus. A lot of time, and talk, to develop the trust her son deserved from her. She still found herself exhausted, sometimes, from the caring and trusting and worrying. Josh was the most important person in her life, and coping with being his only parent had taken her entire being. 

She hadn’t expected anyone else, ever, to enter her life. Hadn’t looked twice at any man, or woman. There had been a few of both, before Mick. But after? Knowing how temporary things are, how delicate just crossing the street could be? Even friends made her nervous, so she held herself at a distance, all that time. Focused on work, on parenting. 

Then came Judy. Her big day, her big hat, and Violet’s sudden, big change of heart. 

Judy wasn’t just a friend. They weren’t just two people who got along, enjoyed each other’s company and laughed about their day. Violet would find herself actively going out of her way for Judy, needing to protect her. Needing to support her. Doralee was a great friend, but Doralee didn’t need looking after. Judy did. 

Now Violet begins realizing that maybe she does too. 

If anyone was going to be there for her, it would be Judy. 

If she was going to go out on a limb for anyone, it would be Judy. 

If she had to pick one person in her life, just  _ one _ who wasn’t her son, to be vulnerable with, to be honest and open with… it would be Judy. 

It would always be Judy. 

—

Violet begins fidgeting, nervously, as the clock starts to slide past five. Her keys are in her hand, the door nearly locked. She can see Judy, tidying up her desk, wasting time until Violet leaves. It’s what they do every night. A simple elevator ride full of smiling, of hands accidentally brushing, of tension that made Violet sweat, but also excited her. Then Judy would go off to the subway, and Violet would hop in her car, and they would go home. 

Violet didn’t want Judy to go home just yet. 

“Hey.”

Violet supposes it’s a weak greeting after staying shut in her office all day, but Judy’s hand instantly grabs hers, squeezing. 

“Vi! It’s been odd to see you so quiet. Are you sure you’re okay?” 

It takes everything Violet has to swallow down the guilt, to grip Judy’s hand in response and gently pull her up to stand. 

“Not really,” she admits, not ready to share more just yet. “You ready to go?” 

Judy’s face is full of concern, but she nods, sliding her arms into her coat and slinging her purse over her shoulder. They’re silent as they wait for the elevator to reach their floor. 

Violet is so thankful that it’s empty; most people have left already, eager to get a head start on their weekend. But she wishes she could just stay here, in this quiet moment, in this small space, with her Judy. 

She doesn’t let herself think before reaching out for Judy’s hand again, just to hold. Just to remind herself she’s there. Judy’s fingers slide between hers and tug, once they reach the lobby. The city looks dark but busy outside the windows, and they wait. 

“Could I drive you somewhere?” Violet asks, keeping her eyes on the street. She can feel her whole body begin to shake. Judy’s hand might be the only thing keeping her feet on the ground. 

“Where?” 

“Somewhere important.” 

Judy hesitates, but Violet can feel her nod. She pulls her, hands still entwined, toward the parking garage. As she goes to unlock the passenger door and open it for Judy, her heart starts beating even faster. 

Judy, confused but unaware of Violet’s internal struggle, grins sheepishly as she sits, their hands reluctantly letting go. Violet counts her steps, tries to even out her breathing, as she gets behind the wheel. 

“Please, you have—your belt is buckled, right?”

“Yes,” Judy confirmed, a confused smile on her face. “Of course. Why?” 

“Good, good,” Violet answers, brushing past the question. She puts her hand on the back of Judy’s headrest to check behind them before pulling out, trying to ignore the heat of Judy’s neck radiating so near to her own skin. She looks once, twice, three times before backing up. 

She hasn’t been this nervous to drive in more than a year. 

Judy fills the car with small talk, though it’s careful and cautious. Violet’s responses are short, but kind. Judy doesn’t push her, but she does look confused as she realizes where they are. 

Violet drives the car past her own house, but passes it right by. She pulls over to the curb near the corner of the street, putting the car into park. Her hand is gripping the stick like a vice, like she might lose all of her resolve if she lets go. 

She takes a deep breath, and finally looks at Judy. 

“Three years ago today, I lost Mick.”

Judy’s eyebrows shoot up, and she’s immediately closer, prying Violet’s hand off the stick to hold. 

“Oh my gosh, I had no idea—“

“It happened right here.” Violet nods her head toward the corner, though she feels it weigh heavily on her neck. “He had just left for work.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Judy whispers, her thumb lightly brushing over Violet’s knuckles. “Violet, you really—“

“I heard it, from the kitchen. Just two people, driving to work in the morning, not looking where they were going.”

Violet tugs on Judy’s hand, dragging it to her lap. She stares down at their fingers, how they fit together so nicely, how Judy’s thumb hasn’t stopped rubbing circles against her skin this entire time. 

“That’s why that stop sign is there now. That was my concession; a stop sign as an apology for my dead husband.” 

“Violet.” Judy’s voice is barely even audible, and full of the tears she’s always known Judy to be quick to. But she doesn’t see pity in her eyes. She only sees worry, and care, and something…  _ more, _ that she’s not quite ready to define yet. But still, her heart responds in kind, both breaking open with vulnerability and being held together by this woman. This amazing, tender woman, who is holding her hand and crying with her in her car. Who isn’t running for the door, or filling the silence with empty words. 

_ Her Judy _ . 

Her chest swells, and she finds her nerve. 

“I care about you. A lot. So much, it kind of scares the shit out of me.” She squeezes Judy’s hand, staring down at the pink polish on her fingers, trying to keep her tears from falling. They do anyway. Judy squeezes back, and it gives her the courage to continue. “But I want to. I want to care about you, but it's hard, and I needed you to know why.” 

Judy nods, and Violet realizes her cheeks are wet with tears. She reaches over with her other hand to brush one away. 

“Now why are  _ you _ crying?” she tries to joke. Judy chokes out a small laugh amidst sniffles. 

“Thank you, Violet. You… you didn’t have to tell me that, or bring me here. But thank you.” 

Judy unbuckles herself and leans in, nearly tumbling into Violet’s lap with the force of her hug. All Violet can do is sigh, and sink into Judy, and let herself be held. She could stay here all night, with Judy’s arms tight around her, her soft hair under Violet’s cheek. She feels tethered, and safe, and…  _ loved.  _

This wasn’t the way she thought her day would end, but thank god. 

“Let’s get you inside,” Judy finally says, breaking their spell. But when they pull apart, Violet feels a new sort of understanding between them. It’s subtle, but it’s there, and she feels the tension leave her shoulders. 

Judy buckles herself back in, and pats Violet’s hand as she puts the car back into drive. Violet takes her time turning around, driving back up the street to park in her driveway. She turns the engine off, and they sit, listening to crickets chirping in her yard. 

“I hope you know,” Judy starts, her voice so strong that Violet can only swell with pride. “I care about you too. It’s so much, sometimes, that I feel like I can’t do anything else.”

So there it is. It’s out, they’ve both said it. Just two smiling, crying idiots. The safest Violet has felt in a car in three years. 

“You and Josh should be together tonight,” Judy continues. “But, tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow,” Violet repeats. “Tomorrow can be for us.”

She loves the shade of red in Judy’s blushing cheeks, the way her smile has grown even wider, the way her eyes shine— not with sadness, but with understanding. 

Because one of them must, Violet gets out of the car. She hurries over to Judy’s side, offers a hand to help her out of the seat. 

“I’ll walk you to the train.”

The subway is just around the corner in the other direction, and their hands press together the whole way. Before she can go down the stairs, Judy buries her face in Violet’s shoulder, holding her close. 

“Thank you,” Violet whispers into her hair. They reluctantly part, and Judy presses a quick kiss to Violet’s cheek before ascending up the stairs to the platform. 

The day isn’t quite done. Josh will be waiting at home. She’s going to go see him, and hug him, and tell her how much she loves him. She’s going to lay in bed, and think about Mick, but also think about Judy, and about how life goes on. How Mick would want her to be happy, and looked after, and loved. 

Tomorrow, she’s going to take out Judy Bernly. She’s going to kiss her. She’s going to keep living. 


End file.
